I must be crazy.
For the last week I have been working back in San Francisco at Heritage.
If you ask me why I would say because I want to be helpful and I know Sweet Janice needed me.
I do love to be helpful.
Plus I need the dough to send Desi to camp.
This week we are moving~ about 14 blocks to the north, at the base of the Trans America pyramid. It's at the edge of the Financial District and in the Antique District which is also called North Beach. It is also just to the left of China Town and below Broadway which is the infamous Barbary Coast of SF legend. Google it.
In other words- Chi chi! Their shit don't stink. They dress
way up to go to work. There are no bums to step over getting to work. The trees are continually dressed in bright white twinkling lights~ not just Christmas. We have many very nice and tasty restaurants to choose from for lunch.Our space is equally lovely, with high ceilings in a Victorian looking building, hardwood floors and windows fore and aft...
BUT- you knew this was coming... BUT
This is my space ( when I work, which is probably not going to be much)
It is a dungeon. It is also a good thing I am a munchkin, because my head does not touch the low rafters- which I won't be able to say for most of my co-workers including my darling John.
But the shipping dept is just a piffle- of course. The Art Dept gets the choice of building spaces, and the rest of us just have to make it work.
So yesterday was moving day.
Art Dept Girl was no where to be found. One of the CD's was MIA too- and I'm a little miffed about that.
First let me say that I am not a young woman. I have issues and my butt isn't as trim as it used to be. I am at the edge of exhaustion at this point after working ten days straight. Here is the story...
John and I have been slaving away to wrap and pack and get the biggest collection away to Dallas, and the secondary collections to Dallas and then the rest of the materials and values wrapped to send to Jackson Street ( the new digs). My Sweet Jan and Darling Laura went to Jackson to meet the movers, the rest of the crew stayed behind. Me to supervise, and John to help load when needed.
All of a sudden one of the movers hollers-" Elevator is stuck!"
Our building is a SF landmark. With it's big Coca Cola light up sign on the top and its beautiful open floor plan, it is a old treasure with an old temperamental elevator that I would not call a treasure on most days.If you don't center the load, the floor tips and the elevator stops.
So I go to the edge of the elevator shaft which has a wooden gate to keep someone from falling down the shaft and I see that the elevator IS stuck and has three items inside that have tilted to one side and are pressing against the up/down button. And there is no one in the elevator. The mover had tried to send it up sans operator.
So to him I say " Ok, you're going to have to be a monkey and climb over the gate from the second floor and reshift that load."
He looks a bit baffled, but I take him by the collar and haul him up to the second floor.
I pull a stool over to the open elevator with the solidly closed gate and point to the two foot gap between the bottom of the door and the top of the gate. The elevator is stuck between floors, probably about 10 feet down. He stand on the stool and he is so heavy he cannot get his leg over the gate. So the next guy goes and stands on the stool, but he's so old and rickety that he just hangs his head over the wooden gate and says,
"Oh I don't think I can do that."
"Get a ladder" I say. We put the ladder up to the gate, I wait for one of the guys to begin the climb. and I wait. And wait. They stand around shuffling their feet and worrying about what they are going to do, and say things like, " I don't know" "that looks dangerous" "I don't think I can get over it, man"
"Oh, fergawd sake! " I finally blurt. "We don't have time for this!" I climb the ladder, swing my leg over the bar and lower myself at least five feet down to the top of the five foot cabinet jamming the elevator. Then I have to turn around and haul myself down from the cabinet. Then I have to manhandle the load until it is centered and the elevator begins to hum, finally depositing me onto the dock platform.
See picture: I have a hard time describing it, so I drew a simple map. I am sure it will eventually help in those therapy sessions I am going to need.
Then I am recruited to go to Jackson Street. I need to tell them where the desk and all the tables are going to go. On the way over in the Car, Sweet Jan gives me a pep talk about how one CD is not listening and wants everything he had in the old space. When I get there I am shown the Dungeon. I bite my lip to keep from bursting into tears. I trip down the first step, catch myself on the rail and wonder how many times I am going to save myself from a hideous fall before I finally miss and tumble.
And the bottom floor is dark, and dank, and all of the lights don't work...but there is places for storage, and I start in restoring order. One by one, the other CD's come to me and ask me to speak to the other and to also speak to Sweet Jan about this and that- so finally they are all sorta satisfied. No one got exactly what they wanted, so I consider it a success.They got what the needed and a bit more. I got George the Antelope hanging on the wall, but he has to go upstairs near the kitchen closet.
Luckily I was able to restore some organization, I stuffed a bunch of boxes in one niche, another hundred in another and managed to get the 'good' tables brought down and set up for a 'wrapping' and' lay out' table.
But of course they can't use me next week, but I can come in on the 2nd to organize the rest of the Shipping Dept, before being laid off again.
On my way home I had pretty much talked myself out of this job, but today I feel better, got some rest and chocolate. I'll do it a little bit longer.
But once more I say " I must be crazy!"
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